Progress to Date: 22 days, 1011 miles

We've hit 1,000 miles for the Grand Gaspé Cycling Tour! It feels like a significant and particularly gratifying milestone. We've also been away from home for four weeks, and cycling for over three. Time to take a temperature check on our bodies and state of mind!

Our Bodies

Physical fitness: Despite three weeks of repeated cycling, we still feel strong. We continue to mount our bikes each day ready to ride. We haven't necessarily been good at taking rest days, and that began to take its toll. A few days ago, my thighs began to complain each time I started up until I got going. And my body was tired. Rich's legs were “toast” in his words, and he was moving slowly. We ordered up a rest day and vowed to repeat it more regularly in the future.

Cycling challenges: So far we've been able to handle the cycling regime. Steep hills are tough, as are strong headwinds, but it's just a matter of pushing through them. Rich did draw the line at going over to the outer coast of Nova Scotia – he didn't think he was up to climbing up and over the ridge line. So we followed more moderate terrain (for Nova Scotia).

Health: Okay, truth be told, we haven't scored as well on this front (pun intended). Rich caught a bug in the very beginning of the trip that plagued him for a couple of weeks. It zapped his strength, left him in fits of coughing, and caused him to lay low in Acadia National Park. Just abut the time he hit 95% healthy again, I succombed to his malady. Continued cycling hasn't helped our recovery much. But we did make concessions on our lodging choices, trading a poor night's sleep in a tent for a real bed in a motel a few times. Hopefully all that will soon be behind us.

Our minds

Missing home? Not really. It sounds kind of cold and hard when put that way, but we're living in the moment and thoroughly enjoying our experiences. There is nothing at home that could top this.

Missing family? Of course. There is nothing I'd like more than to hug my grandkids. Or gather with one or all of our kids. I hate missing some traditional family events while we're gone. But two months in the grand scheme of things is a small period of time to devote to this trip of a lifetime. So we do our best to keep in touch by email, Facebook and eek out a phone call when we can.

Tired of traveling? Not at all. There is still so much to see.

Still talking to each other? Mostly. Our biggest disagreements are over where to eat (Molly: healthy, local and a nice setting; Rich: food when he finds it), and when and how long to linger along the way, including scenic detours. Other than that, we're still good traveling buddies.

What do we miss most? Molly: Healthy home made food. Fresh fruit and hearty bread with raisins. Good coffee, even better, a latte. Rich: Having an occasional lazy morning.

What don't we miss? Our wardrobes. Having no clothes choices makes life very simple. And nobody else knows we've worn the exact same clothes every other day of our trip.

Our Equipment

Rich: 2 flat tires, fixed en route. Lost 1 pair of socks.

Molly: Gears out of adjustment and repaired. Rear view mirror flopping; electrical tape a mediocre repair job.

Overall, I'd say we've passed this check-up with flying colors. And we're ready for the next 1,000 miles!

Progress to date: 21 days, 941 miles

Getting on our bikes day after day. Cycling everywhere. Limited to just what we can fit into our panniers. After almost 1,000 miles, I can give you a small peek into our world of travel.

Probably the biggest piece of reality that I've had to face is that we can't do it all. Not even this Energizer Bunny can reach all the same sights that you can in a car. I thought I was being practical when I chose just the eastern shore of Prince Edward Island to hug the coast. But I had to settle for a small portion of it if we were going to see anything else on the island. Seeing everything up close means seeing less overall. It's not a bad thing. I just had to wrap my brain around it.

Tour books and information signs are meant for car travelers. And directions from locals have to be interpreted with a degree of skepticism. “Just down the road” rarely really is. What's a short detour in a car is a major side trip on a bike. Distances are significant at 12mph. It means we don't veer off our route much. So much for those craft stores “over there.” But then again, we don't have any spare room in our panniers, nor do we want any extra weight. So shopping is a moot point. It's rather liberating, really.

That bring us to food. Rich's adage is “If you see food, eat.” He's right, really. You can never count on finding something up ahead. We've leaned that lesson the hard way. One morning we hit the jackpot. Spotting signs for a home bakery, we stepped into a kitchen filled with goodies. Leaving with handfuls of baked goods each, we stretched out on the grass to consume them on the spot and sugared our way through the next few miles.

It's those spontaneous personal experiences that are one of the best parts of cycling. Having depleted his water bottles in the heat and headwinds yesterday, Rich stopped at a house where an elderly man was out in his yard. Not only did the man provide cold water from his fridge for refills, he also dispensed sage advice. “You're going the wrong way, young man,” he said with a twinkle. “Gaspé is the other direction. Going with the wind!” That exchange powered Rich's legs for the next few miles!

Most stops we make are fairly short. It's hard to get going again after stopping too long, as our legs stiffen up. And we lose our momentum. At times it makes me feel like all we are doing is moving from point A to point B. So I have to consciously focus on making sure we don't just cycle by interesting places. And I have to remind Rich, “I want to see this town, not just cycle through it.”

Nice view for our rest day

After leaving our cycling buddies in Maine, we have only a loose itinerary and make detailed travel plans only a day or two ahead. That gives us a lot of flexibility, which is a mixed bag… On one hand, we can now plan around the weather. Rather than repeat our long slog through the rain of a couple weeks ago, we swapped our rest day to coincide with the forecast for rain. It's a lot more pleasant that way. On the other hand, it leaves our route open to interpretation. Invariably, I set my sights on the more aggressive itinerary. Predictably, Rich weighs in on the practical side. Compromise is not always easy.

Would we change anything? Absolutely not. Despite the realities, we're still sold on cycle touring. Good thing, as we're not even half way through the Grand Gaspé Tour yet.

Our route: Red = cycling on bike trail, Orange = cycling on roads

Little did we know when we set out to cycle on Prince Edward Island, that an extensive trail system for cyclists was awaiting us. The demise of the railroad on PEI in 1989 presented the opportunity to establish what is now 357 kilometers of bike trail along the abandoned rail beds. Known as the Confederation Trail, it stretches across the entire island and is still growing as new offshoots continue to be added. We covered only a small portion of the trail, but relished every mile (ah, make that kilometer – we are in Canada, after all).

The obvious advantage of the cycling trail is the lack of cars. Although traffic is light on PEI, it's still a danger. And traveling on a dedicated path is so much quieter and more relaxing. In fact, we saw few other cyclists on the trail – it was like having our own private route through the countryside. It does come at a price, however. The trails are not paved, and the surface ranged from hard packed dirt to soft shifty crushed rock to grassy in the lesser used patches. I find it a lot harder going on these surfaces than the paved roads. But apart from having to swallow my pride as I fell behind Rich on the trail, it was well worth the extra effort.

Each intersection with a road involves a gate across the path on either side. I understand the logic of leaving the gates only partially open, to discourage non-bicycles from using the trail. However, it leaves the cyclist with the challenge of frequently navigating these narrow sideways openings. Rich calls it the ancient art of gate threading. Eventually I got the hang of it, going through without stopping!

Molly gate threading!

Since the trail travels through the center of the island, it precludes following the coastline. So we did venture away from the trail when we needed our fix of water and harbor views. And in some inland areas not serviced by the trail, we followed local roads from town to town. It didn't take long to discover that PEI is not exactly as flat as we thought, as we found ourselves grinding up tough uphills! We soon leaned to use the trail whenever possible. In addition to its gentler grade, it also sheltered us from sun and wind. A big advantage.

Perhaps it wasn't entirely kosher, but we did enjoy the fruits of the trail as well – literally. One fine morning we feasted of crisp fresh apples and an abundance of blackberries as we passed through one well endowed section of the trail. Oh yum!

PEI National Park offers another 50 kilometers of cycling trail. This is a paved trail that hugs the northern coast in the park. Cycling that portion soon became one of my favorite experiences of our whole trip so far. With continual views of cliffs, dunes and sandy shore, it was a feast for the eyes as we breezed along.

Cycling the Gulfshore Way in PEI National Park

Rich and other touring cyclists

Not surprisingly, PEI's trails attract touring cyclists. While camping at the National Park, we happened upon a woman from the Netherlands and a couple from Ottawa traveling by bicycle. Having all headed to the little fish and chips shack down the road, we shared a small outdoor table for dinner and compared notes on our travels. We loved hearing their adventures, strategies and approach to cycle touring. And we all agreed, PEI is a great place to do it.

Prince Edward Island, or PEI as it is commonly called, wasn't even on our original itinerary. But it has been a most worthwhile addition. First, it is quite flat. That makes Rich really, really happy. And I can't say I mind. With a population of only about 145,000 on the whole island, it has a quiet and uncrowded feel. There aren't even many tourists. It's extremely rural, with beautiful pastoral farm scenery inland and frequent water views when cycling near the coast. Every mile we bike provides us with an eyeful.

I came on this trip looking for coastline, cliffs and lighthouses. PEI has delivered on all accounts. Let's start with the harbor towns. With an active fishing industry, there is no shortage of picturesque inlets filled with boats. These are some of my favorite views. I love the colorful display of the working boats, often right alongside the splendor of pleasure craft. Even the worn working sheds on the edge of the harbor exude a certain rough charm.

Murray Harbor fishing boats

Boats in the evening light in Montague

Fishing shacks in Georgetown

As for coastline, PEI offers something for everyone. I found my cliffs on the north side of the island. As promised, they were a definite red color, due to the iron oxide that coats the sandstone surfaces there. They showed up in sharp contrast with the blue of the water. Surprisingly, tall undulating sand dunes and long stretches of fine sand beach can be found in the same area. All of this resides within Prince Edward Island National Park, which quickly earned a spot on our “best of” list.

Molly and cliffs in the National Park

Walking the beach in the National Park

Sand dunes at Cavendish Beach

One of the first sights we visited on the island was Cape Bear Lighthouse. We learned that it was the first land station to receive the distress call for the Titanic. I loved finding it at the end of a quiet lane, unassuming and tucked away from view until we rounded the corner. We soon found that its signature white and red decor was repeated many times around the island.

Walking the beach in the National Park

Covehead lighthouse

As a bonus, we enjoyed a number of beautiful sunrises and sunsets around the island. What's not to love about that?

Montague harbor as we cycled away in the early morning light

Sunset at Stanhope Beach in the Park

Sunrise at Stanhope Beach

Our progress to date: 13 days, 575 miles

Arriving on the ferry, as the hills of Nova Scotia materialized out of the fog, it was one of those “pinch me” moments. Was I really about to arrive in Nova Scotia? Yes!

We arbitrarily decided to cycle from our landing point in Digby up to Annapolis Royal, merely based on it being a reasonable distance to complete following our afternoon arrival. But it turned out to be a fortuitous choice. Annapolis Royal is an historic town, dating back to 1605, and they have done a marvelous job of preserving the old buildings in town. We found a nice B&B for the night and proceeded on a lovely walk through town. The fog had lifted, leaving behind a clear sky and the glow that comes with the evening sunlight. We've come to enjoy a cold hard cider after a day of cycling, and were able to enjoy their local variety at a pub where we had dinner.

Rich enjoying a cold cider

A clear sunny day greeted us the next morning and we took the opportunity to circle through town again before breakfast. We visited Fort Anne, which we learned was involved in 13 battles and changed hands 7 times between the English and the French over the course of two centuries. Bathed in the morning light, the carefully restored grounds were quiet and magical on the banks of the bay.

Fort Anne

Molly about to shoot a cannon?

View of Annapolis Royal

Leaving the B&B

Our route for the day took us through the Annapolis Valley, which is a narrow 8k wide swath sandwiched between two high ridges. As such, is it surprisingly flat and fertile, hosting farmland, orchards and even vineyards. With a strong south wind pushing us along, we fairly flew through the countryside. After hearing about how hilly and challenging the cycling is in Nova Scotia, this was quite the happy surprise! Rich was in his element. I love the hills, but they are definitely not his thing. We both relished the speed and ease of cycling today, as the warm sunshine poured down on us. Something tells me we won't see that again on this island…

The valley was also populated by frequent little towns. They all seemed to be more affluent and prosperous than the towns in New Brunswick, with old houses well preserved, beautiful churches and picturesque main streets. I decided that the little population centers added a great deal of interest to the countryside for a cyclist.

Two friendly cows

Roadside flowers by the Annapolis River

A small town en route

It's no accident that we followed a moderate route today. But the scenery, sunshine and tailwinds were a definite bonus. I'd say that Nova Scotia has given us quite a good welcome.

P.S. Rich seems to have turned the corner on his crud and is feeling much better. I got my bike repaired in St. John and it is now humming smoothly again in all gears. Our sense of well being has been restored!

We knew that not every moment of cycling would be great. We knew that some days would be downers. Perhaps we should have heeded the signs. Our first sight from the tent this morning was a red sunrise. You know what they say…”Red sky at morning, sailers take warning.” I think it applies to cyclists as well.

For starters, Rich has been battling a cough and cold for a week. Three nights in a tent didn't help matters, and by this morning his eyes were ringed with red. Between the hacking and his visual appearance, he was a convincing invalid. I was fighting my own battles. The derailers on my bike were acting up and my frustration level was rapidly rising. Lacking a bike shop in any towns we've passed through, I began to envision cycling 2,000 miles with slipping gears. Having the chain come off completely as we rushed to catch the ferry didn't help. We both hit a low as we boarded.

There was a dense morning fog that enveloped the ferry as we crossed back to the mainland. It stayed with us for the remainder of the day, and created a quandary. Should we take the scenic detour down to the coast? It meant extra miles and most likely hillier terrain, but it would be a respite from the highway and supposedly offered beautiful views. We went for it. But it was clearly a dud. The tide was out and the fog was in, obliterating any glimpse of the water. Worse yet, we had not found any food options since breakfast. As the miles mounted up, so did our hunger. And that really dampens the mood.

It was the Flintstones that turned the day around. Or their cars at least. Sitting in the front yard of a house they were too good to pass by without a photo opp. In fact, Rich confirmed they were a valid “purple cow” – his term for a unique and usually slightly crazy sight. The detour was suddenly worth it and the day seemed brighter.

Our good humor restored, we pressed on toward St. John. Having passed numerous deer signs, we took particular pleasure in seeing our first moose sign in that part of Canada. Things were definitely looking up. Good thing it doesn't take much to entertain us.

A clean motel room, a delicious dinner of local scallops, and ice cream treats acquired on our circuit through the grocery store were great mood lifters as well. The prospect of a good night's sleep for Rich and an appointment at a bike shop in the morning for me have worked wonders. I think we are on the upswing.